We arrive at Frankie’s just as her black Range Rover Sport is pulling serenely into the driveway. She emerges silkily from the front seat, still wearing her dark suit. The door thunks closed and she strides up to us, steely-eyed, jangling her keys.

I feel like rushing up to her and kissing her.

But I don’t. I stand next to Malik and wait.

She sees him and gives me a questioning look. “Frances,” she says, holding out her hand to Malik, taking the initiative. Classic Frankie Solana.

“Malik,” he says, and they shake. “A school friend.”

“You’re a school friend?” Frankie says.

“He’s a year above me,” I cut in.

“How old are you, Malik?” Frankie says, raising her sculpted eyebrows.

I squirm again. “Frankie!” Between her and the Old Man, Malik will be scared off in no time.

“What? It’s not OK for me to ask?”

“No. Listen, it’s OK,” Malik says. “I’m used to it. I look older than I am, I know. But I’m eighteen.” He’s lying again—he’s easily nineteen.

Frankie looks at me and pockets her keys. I slipped on a new pullover at the Old Man’s house, and I washed my face and my hands and made myself presentable so Frankie wouldn’t freak out. I can tell she isn’t totally comfortable with Malik being here, but she can also see that I’m happy.

“How’d it go?” I ask her.

“The meeting?” She looks surprised. “Didn’t know you cared.”

I shrug and say nothing.

She gives me a guarded smile. “A success, I think. We’ll have to see. And you?” She glances at Malik. “How was the…uh…”

“The appointment?” I ask, thankful that Frankie is tactful and smart enough not to talk about shrinks in front of a good-looking boy. “It was fine.”

“Good,” she says. “I’m pleased. But…what are you doing here, Ana? You’re meant to be at your father’s.”

“I know,” I say. And then I lurch forward and give her a hug. Nothing crazy, just a quick embrace. A sniff of that Frankie aroma.

Coffee, leather and chocolate.

Now she looks genuinely shocked.

“Ana—” she says.

“I just…I wanted to see you,” I blurt. “Plus, I left my phone in my room.”

Frankie laughs and looks at Malik. “And there’s the real reason. Come on inside, Malik.”

She leads the way up the drive and I follow, heart in my throat.

—

I close my bedroom door behind me, and Malik and I look at each other. My breath quickens and then we’re kissing and his hands are in my hair and his dark eyes are locked onto mine and I’m lost in them and the room is spinning, spinning.

“Are you really here?” I ask him when we break apart. “Am I dreaming?”

“I’m here,” he says. “You’re not dreaming.”

“That’s a relief.”